[On the way to the nightclub] WOMAN: Hey, you look great. Where are you going? ROOMMATE: To the club. You’re sure I look okay? WOMAN: Terrific. ROOMMATE: These shoes are alright? WOMAN: Perfect. ROOMMATE: What about this gun? Does it make me look fat? WOMAN: No, but now that you mention it, don’t you think an ankle holster would look better? ROOMMATE: I do, but I want to dance. WOMAN: You can’t dance with an ankle holster? ROOMMATE: I mean, I can. But it throws my game off. WOMAN: Which club are you going to? ROOMMATE: Biarritz. WOMAN: Oh, then…
Author: Tom Shadwell
Tom Shadwell
Tom Shadwell is humor writer who lives in small-town Indiana, which doesn't offer much in the way of night life (or daily life) but that does provide him with such an abundance of material that the comedy sometimes writes itself. This means that he is apt to take on such topics as Confederate flags, guns in church, and Republican notions of gardening. Tom hasn't always lived in Indiana; he has degrees in literature from two state universities (one of which is among "America's best values"), and he has studied satire, improv and sketch writing at The Second City in Chicago. His stuff has appeared on Robot Butt and The Second City Network. Say what you will about Tom, but the man does the best he can with what he's got.
Snapchat is a popular app that shows you an image on your phone and then, once the image is firmly lodged in your head, deletes that image from your phone. So that’s fun. I’m not on it, so people often ask me, “Hey, what’s it like to be the only person not on Snapchat?” Me: Hi Dad. What’s up? Dad: Just thinking about the war crimes I committed in Iraq. Me: What? Dad: Nothing. Me: No, what did you say? Dad: I don’t know. It’s gone now. Me: Mom, what do you know about Dad’s past as a war criminal?…